Unfaded Scars
by KamiKaze Knight
Summary: Scars, unfaded. He has many of them but she only has one and she doesn't want to fix it. But he hates marks on her.


**Unfaded Scars**

…..

The mirror doesn't lie. It doesn't hide anything, neither your glory nor your faults. It shows you the parts you can't see and sometime, makes you to see better. Standing before the mirror you try to read yourself but in reality it reads you. It reads you in a way no one ever can. You may never feel but it can read your inner self too. Because, the mirror is _you._ It knows everything you know about yourself. It read everything you allow it and also beyond your premises. Because, it's your replica. Because it's you on the other side. The glass wall is just a spell, casted to hide the part of yourself you want to hide from the world. The part you don't want to reveal.

Tarika believes every word of it. How many times she has stood in front of the mirror and let her guard down, she can't count. Standing before the mirror and looking at her replica reminds her who she is. Whenever she feels down she looks at the mirror and tries to find her strong self. And she finds it every time, standing at the other side, looking at her with the same spirit, with same passion. Abhijeet once asked her what she couldn't live without in her house and she had replied, ' _mirror'_. To her surprise he didn't laugh and had changed the topic immediately, probably touched by the way she had said the word. Perhaps he uses the same technique to boost himself too. She never asked. Let it be their own little open secret.

More than two minutes have passed and she is still looking at the mirror. The towel wrapped around her head to dry the wet hair threatens to come out. She fixes it immediately as good as possible without taking that out completely. She looks at herself in mirror yet again. Her fresh showered body is wrapped with a white towel exposing her part of upper body. She tightens the towel thinking to dry her hair first and then change into clothes. She bends down to take the hair drier but stops feeling tickling sensation on her neck. She tries to shoo away the hair tickling her neck by jerking her head but that doesn't work. Irritated, she places one hand on her neck and at the same time her eyes meet the replica in mirror. She stands up slowly leaving the hair drier on dressing table and look at her neck. Her hand brushes away the hair from her neck gently. She notices the redness on her right side of neck. Her touch becomes gentler as she feels the redness. She tries to search has there been any hickeys.

Being a romantic and passionate person Abhijeet should have left some marks on her. But she finds it really amusing that amidst of his passion and romance he's restrained himself from becoming ruthless. And he has done it pretty well. He's extra precautious not to leave any marks on her. _'Marks on woman? I don't like this idea_ ' he always says. To be honest she wouldn't mind some marks on her, if it comes from him. But she likes his idea too.

Smiling, she looks at her neck. How long it will take to disappear'- the redness. She hopes it disappears soon. Nor that she minds it but she doesn't want Abhijeet to over react.

Enough with her staring she decides to change her clothes into something special. Her eyes while lowering down, taking the replica away from her vision stops at mid-point and looked up at her bare neck again. This time, a little lower and at the left side. That _unfaded scar_ , just little above from her heart. She touched her adorable scar in the gentlest way possible for human being. To her, it enhances the glory of her cleavage though she doesn't say it aloud. Abhijeet doesn't approve the burnt mark very much.

 _Burnt mark._ She chuckles. That circular mark always makes her proud of herself. It always take her back to the day when she had gotten that mark on her chest. She only remembers the loud sound, a sudden jerk and a very anxious Daya. That dark afraid face masked with anger and tension also flashes in front of her eyes when she remembers the day.

''Damn with the stupid phone.''

Tarika comes out from his trance with Abhijeet's voice. He enters into the room taking off his T shirt. As soon as he enters the room fills up with the smell of freshly brewed coffee. So, he had been making coffee for her?

''Stupid phone! Always rings out at wrong time,'' Abhijeet complains and throws away his T shirt in bin. Without being bothered to look at Tarika he moves towards the cupboard and pick out a new T shirt for him.

Tarika doesn't say anything and removes the towel from her hair and starts to dry her hair with that. She is looking at him at intervals to see if he notices her. He usually doesn't miss his romantic chances when she's in towel with wet hair.

''You are still not ready?'' He blabs and looks at her at the same time. A playful smile appears on her face instantly and he smirks mischievously. Tarika shakes her head disapprovingly, chuckling.

Forgetting about the T shirt in his hand he moves towards her. On the way he drops down the T shirt on bed. Tarika arranges her hair covering the read part of her neck. She does it in slow, seductive motion so that Abhijeet can't doubt her intention of hiding.

''What's the matter beautiful? Not planning to have breakfast huh?'' His voice slow, seductive, enough to make her shiver. His hands rest on her waists and he leans towards her spontaneously. Rubbing his nose with her he inhales the fragrance of her hair. Just before a second of losing himself completely he manages his instincts and makes some space between them. His hands still resting on her waists he takes a step back.

He takes his time to enjoy the wet, half naked glory of the beautiful lady standing in front of him, to whom he has lost his heart. His smirks turn into grins and then he smiles playfully.

''Don't try to provoke me,'' he challenges her in a playful manner.

''I have no such intentions,'' informed Tarika, straight. ''You are the one taking the first move.'' She indicated his hands on her waists.

''I am also not in a mood of romance,'' Abhijeet says plainly.

''Doesn't seem though.''

Abhijeet doesn't think it necessary to answer and his one hand moves to her hair. His fingers slide down into her hair till her cleavage and stops. The sight is disturbing. Removing her hair he sees carefully. Not that he is witnessing it for the first time but every time it makes the shivers run down his spine. Touching the scar on her he whispers,

''I don't like marks on you.''

It's something Tarika can't understand completely. His words declares possessiveness but his tone, his tone says something beyond that. It says something which heard like guilt.

''And I hate the ones caused by me,'' he said with hatred and whispers, ''or because of me.''

In an instant she looks up to meet his eyes, to convey the message it is not because of him. But he doesn't look up. His eyes are still stick to the small, circular gunshot scar she has been carrying for years. She feels his fingers rubbing the area softly as if he's trying to erase that.

''Get it fix,'' he says.

It is more of a request than an order. He knows she will deny.

Chuckling, Tarika thinks to explain but then decides otherwise and looks at his bare chest within her vision. Small, circular, gunshot scars. Unlike her he wears many of them, sign of patriotism. Scars, he is proud of. He tells her stories about them. Some stories are unknown.

She touches them as gently as she had touched hers', one after other.

''This is when you have saved Daya,'' she comments, eyes fixed on the particular scar she is touching. Her hand goes little down. ''This, when you tried to safe that little girl.''

Before she could go down any further abhijeet holds her hand. This time he looks at her.

''I don't have scars from you.''

''Even if you had I wouldn't have asked you to fix that,'' says Tarika without trying to hide the disappointment in her voice.

Abhijeet stays silent on her retort.

''You are a warrior and the scars are your identification,'' says Tarika, looking deep in his eyes. ''And I am a warrior's better half but this scar is my inspiration, the sign which shouts to me I am worth of your wife.''

''Scar doesn't decide worthiness.''

''But it decides the bravery.''

''Cowards get scars too.''

''But they won't show.''

Abhijeet stops. Fixing the scar will declare her coward!

''No,'' Tarika replies his thought, ''fixing it will not give the opportunity to look at it daily. My scar match yours. I match you.''

''They are just marks.''

''They are scars, unfaded. Let them like the way they are.''

Accepting her victory he takes his both hands off of her and turns around. He picks up the T shirt from bed and wears it.

''Breakfast is ready,'' he leaves the room.

Tarika looks herself in mirror again. _They are just marks_ , his words echoes in her ears. Her scar is not just a mark for him. She knows it's difficult for him. He doesn't give her marks which fade away with time and still he has to look at the _Unfaded_ scar every day.

She looks at the fading redness on her neck. On other side, that unfaded scar remained as prominent as ever.

 ***The End***

KK: Didn't turn out as per my expectation but finally after so many days I have written an OS and I am happy with it, though not satisfied. Let me know agar samajh aya toh… nahi aya toh never mind, ignore.


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